Dark Hours
by museme87
Summary: Times are growing darker. Order missions are failing and the body count is rising. But Remus knows he'd be able to make it through all that, if it weren't for this.


**Warnings: **Swearing, off screen violence, and violent, off screen character death

* * *

_And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me  
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be_

* * *

Remus was halfway down the aisle before his feet slowed to a full stop and he took a moment to truly consider where he was and what he was about to do. This wasn't him. This wasn't what Remus Lupin _did_ when things turned bad. And yet here he was, standing a few yards away from the alter at the front of the church and hating himself for it.

Years had passed since he'd been inside a place of worship of his own volition. He had been all of ten years old when he'd given up his religion and had never once found need to turn back to it. Until now.

Times were troubled. The Order had suffered greatly these past few months. _They_ had suffered greatly—the five of them: he, Sirius, James, Peter, and Lily. Remus knew war aged people but he couldn't have predicted feeling like this. The missions one after another, the ambushes, the body count in the _Prophet_—those things had begun to control their lives. But all of that would have been okay and he would have never sought help from his mother's Savior if it hadn't been for _him_. _Sirius_. Nothing but God's Grace could help him now, Remus feared.

Despite being equipped with that knowledge—the knowledge that he _had_ to be here for Sirius' sake—the trip to the alcove where the prayer candles were held was no easy task. Countless feelings intertwined themselves inside him: fear for Sirius, loneliness in his absence, queasiness from not eating, agitation due to the approaching full moon, and dread of the unknown. And despite his best attempts, he couldn't push aside the disappointment that came with knowing that his own prayers had never been answered.

As he continued towards the front of the church, Remus suddenly felt six years old again. He remembered sitting on similar pews with his mother just after his "accident". Her frantic words were as clear to him now as ever.

"We must pray to God for a cure, my love," she had said, a tragedy-induced madness playing in her eyes.

That year Remus had lost his mother, in a way. While they'd both put all their faith behind their prayers, it apparently hadn't been enough. After months and months without an answer from God, frustration had begun to manifest itself in mother and son; however the absence of God's intervention had affected them both very differently. For Remus, the realization that all the Hail Marys in the world couldn't cure him of his sickness had been the catalyst for his dwindling faith. His mother, however, had become obsessed with her religion.

She'd grieved daily over his condition and the fact that her Holy Father had yet to answer her prayers. Her mantra had shifted over the course of a few years from "pray for a cure" to "this is just a test from God". And Remus recalled those final days before his first year began when Cathleen Lupin's shrill voice had shouted, "It is not for us to question God's will, Remus!" as he walked out of church and away from their faith.

And, now, coming back to this place and seeking God's intervention once more made him feel like a fool. After all the disappointments he'd suffered in the past, Remus feared he'd only be left disappointed again. But he had to _try_. He'd gladly suffer his affliction and never seek out a cure again if it meant this single prayer tonight would be answered.

At the front of the church, Remus dropped a few coins in a box next to the candles and struck a match. Picking up a votive, he pressed flame to wick. For a long moment he stared, watching as it flickered to life, before returning it to the glass shelf. Remus remained standing before the small statue of Saint Anthony, Patron of the Lost, and closed his eyes. The prayer his mother had taught him as a boy came back to him, and Remus recited it with every ounce of conviction he had left:

_Oh Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore of you to obtain for me the safe return of Sirius Black. The answer to my prayer may require a miracle. Even so, you are the saint of Miracles._

_Oh gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded in your arms, and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours._

_Amen._

After finishing his prayer, Remus couldn't bring himself to open his eyes or to lift his head. Fear gripped him, breaking his collected composure. He wouldn't allow himself cry, but God did he want to. His hands began to shake, his lips pulling in and out of an anguished grimace. This was all too overwhelming. The last forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind, and in the middle of it all was the thought of finding Sirius as they had found Benjy—as a head and an arm and a foot and nothing more.

* * *

It was ten in the evening before Remus Apparated back to the Order's headquarters. He had stayed in church longer than he'd ever intended to, finding some sort of comfort in the silence and solitude. There would be neither of those things when he returned, not with the Order members gathering in the old house.

The dining area was alive with voices when Remus stepped into the corridor that connected that room to the foyer. The idea of facing all of those people—the ones who had stood by as he stormed out of the house hours ago—frightened him beyond words. They would inquire about his behavior, either demandingly or sympathetically, but Remus couldn't offer them his answer. He couldn't talk about Sirius, not without losing himself entirely.

Deciding that his best option would be to leave and let them think he'd never come back to this mandatory, pseudo-vigil, he quietly turned around. But before he could make two steps in the proper direction, Alastor Moody's voice stopped him.

"And just where the hell have you been, Lupin?"

Remus hated that tone—the one that threw accusations at him without having need to voice the words themselves, the one that Mad-Eye used when addressing him all the time. Despite the fact that his friends didn't believe Moody had anything against him, Remus knew better. His lycanthropy made him unpredictable, especially on the nights before the full moon, and if there was one thing in the world that Moody couldn't stand, it was a loose cannon.

"I was out," Remus replied simply, leaning against the door to the dining room.

Moody scowled. "We gathered that much when you stormed out of here like an idiot. Care to be a little more specific about your whereabouts these past few hours?"

Moody's voice had shifted from annoyed to acidic, and Remus found his own patience wearing thin. The paranoid, old coot probably thought he had led a pack of Death Eaters to their door. Part of Remus—the more malicious part that appeared with the approach of the full moon—desired to spin some extravagant tale about an ambush and narrowly avoided capture. Fortunately his other half—the sensible Remus—still had enough control over the matter to stop himself.

"Had I known I was going to be interrogated when I came back, I would have never left."

While he might have possessed enough will power to quash lies, it seemed as though he'd reached the point in the cycle where there was often bite to his words. And judging from the way the Auror's eyes narrowed threateningly, Moody didn't appreciate his sass.

"Where were you?" Moody barked.

Remus was mindful of Moody's hand looming closer to his wand when he replied, "Church."

"So let me see if I understand this: You risked everyone's hide tonight because you needed to pray to your god?"

He could only think to nod.

"If you _ever_ pull something like that again, Lupin, I—"

"Alastor, that's enough," Dumbledore interjected. "I think we're all in agreement that in these dark hours we wish to seek out any comfort to ease our minds and hearts of fear and grief."

"I would have gone with you, Remus," Lily said from where she sat near the corner of the room.

Remus glanced at her, taking in her weary form. Ever since Sirius and Benjy's disappearance, Lily had been trying so hard to keep morale up, and it seemed it was finally exhausting her. He would have never asked her to accompany him—because of the dangers and the fact that this was something he needed to do alone—but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

"Doing nothing isn't going to bring Black home!" Moody snapped.

His attention drawn immediately from Lily back to Moody, Remus was ready to curse him for even saying Sirius' name, but Lily was already to her feet and demanding everyone's attention in the way Lily always had.

"Praying isn't 'doing nothing', Alastor," she said, her voice low and threatening.

"Well it sure as hell isn't coming up with a rescue plan!" the Auror shouted back.

Rescue plan. They were still carrying on about that hours later? Didn't they understand who they were dealing with? A rescue plan wouldn't do anyone any good now.

"Sirius doesn't need a fucking rescue team!" Remus growled, finally losing his composure entirely. "The Death Eaters don't take hostages; they take a body count. It's been two days since they should have returned from the mission, and we already know that Benjy is dead. What Sirius needs is a divine intervention, so let it be."

"You really want to turn your back on him, Moony?" Peter asked quietly.

"Pete's got a point, Remus. He'd never sit around waiting if it were one of us," James added.

With a miserable whimper, something inside him burst, and Remus felt as if he was being ripped apart. Initially he thought he might be transforming; he would have sworn that his flesh was tearing from bone. But, he realized that no physical pain could compare to what he was feeling now.

How could they think to accuse him of not caring, not wanting to help Sirius? He _loved_ Sirius; he had since fifth year. Remus would have done anything to have him walk through that door. If it meant he could never be with Sirius again, Remus would gladly stand aside. As long as Sirius was safe, it didn't matter.

But they had to know that forming a search party was a fool's errand. They'd already lost so much time. Maybe if they'd begun looking right away…maybe then. But not now. By now, the Death Eaters would have already done to Sirius what they'd intended on doing.

"Remus," James admonished. "You're not thinking clearly."

He'd _tried_ listening, _tried_ thinking. It was all so _jumbled_ in his head though. The wolf ready to show itself any day now, the panicked lover, the man who was already grieving his loss, the boy who waited patiently—they were all talking to him at once, and he couldn't make sense of it.

The wolf urged him to seek revenge against the Death Eaters, its teeth eager to rip into flesh. The panicked lover pleaded with him to go look for Sirius, whatever the risk and regardless of what he'd find. The man said that the search didn't matter anymore, that Sirius was already dead and there was no rush necessary when looking for a body. And the boy—the believer—told him to watch for God's sign.

_There_ will _be an answer_.

Remus hadn't even realized that he'd been pacing in front of the doorway until Lily took a step towards him, nor had he known that he'd been whispering to himself. These moments of haziness manifested during the nights before the full moon but never as they had tonight. Tonight he felt he was going mad.

All eyes were on him, and they made him itch. Moody appearing eager to put him out of his misery for the safety of the others. Dumbledore's usually twinkling blue eyes filled with deep worry. James' impatient glances. Peter's cast to the floor in disappointment. The Longbottoms' stares suggesting he'd just grown another head. Meadows' displaying her fear.

He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't hope to appear the rational person he strived to project, couldn't hope to hide the beast inside of him now that he had to deal with the possible death of the man he loved on top of everything else. And here it was on display for everyone: his own personal conflict, his once-a-month madness when everything became so fucking muddled in his head. Remus needed to get away. The room was too small and closing in on him. He needed to get away _now_.

Tears were collecting in his eyes, his breathing labored from claustrophobia, as he turned to James. "They're hunting us now that they have something we want back. So go ahead and play the fucking hero James, and see if it doesn't get you killed."

Remus turned on his heel and made a dash for the front door. When he arrived, however, he found it had been magically locked. His breath quickened as he stared at the door handle, trying to devise a way to escape, before finally kicking it in a last-ditch attempt.

"No, no, no, no. Please no," he whimpered in a panic.

They didn't understand. He had to _go_. He would die if he didn't get fresh air. They didn't know what it was like to be a man governed by a beast, didn't know what it was like to have the person they loved most ripped from them.

"Remus?"

He felt Lily's soft hand on his arm, her voice concerned not afraid. Lily. Lily who had been his safe harbor long before she had become James' and Sirius had become his. Lily who had been the first person he had confessed his sickness to, the first person to tell him, "that doesn't matter to me." Lily loved him. She'd told him so years ago. Lily. Love. Safe. _Lily._

Remus wrapped his arms around her and brought Lily in close. She clung to him, smoothing his hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. Burying his face against her neck, surrounded by her red tresses, Remus let out a strangled sob, one that he'd been holding back since they'd discovered Benjy's remains.

"Shh, Remus," she whispered. "I know you're upset. Let's get you some air upstairs, alright?"

Lily didn't pull back but instead waited until he was ready to let go. It took a few moments—his body wracked with sobs that made it difficult to do anything but let them ride their course—but finally Remus was able to.

.

.

After slipping quietly upstairs and into the study, Lily opened the bay windows that overlooked the street below. Remus lunged for the cold air, taking in deep breaths. The rage and sadness swirling inside him stilled, and Remus felt like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Now free from those suffocating looks, he was provided with a moment's clarity.

"I didn't mean to say those things to Prongs," he said, finally finding his voice.

Lily sat down in the bay window and took his hand. "I know, and James knows too. We're all afraid for Sirius. But with the full moon so close, we know it's especially difficult for you."

"But—"

Taking his chin into her fingers, she turned his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. "It's _okay_."

Remus sat next to her and began toying with the edge of her long skirt, biting his bottom lip. "I love him."

It felt so good to say it, to share his and Sirius' secret with someone. He realized that their unknown relationship hadn't helped his sanity any, his mind racing between keeping up the just-friends appearance and acting the worried lover. And if anyone would understand their relationship and not prod him about it, it was Lily.

"Sirius?" she asked, surprised.

Remus nodded in response to her question.

"Oh God, Remus," she said, her sympathies painfully apparent.

"It doesn't matter how he comes back, you know. I'd spend my life caring for him if need be. I just…" His voice cracked, tears slipping past his cheeks. "I just want him home."

He'd decided long ago that, regardless of Sirius' state, he would be there for him. Remus wanted the safe return of _his_ Sirius—moody, inappropriate, childish, live-in-the-moment Sirius. He longed to feel those arms slip around his waist as he made breakfast, feel Sirius' lips against his neck, his morning stubble scratching Remus' skin. He wanted to wake up in the middle of the night to Sirius' snores next to him, to complain about Sirius leaving clothes all over their bedroom, to feel Sirius pushing inside of him in those moments of passion. What he wanted returned to him was a life with the man he loved.

But if Sirius came back, he might not come back whole. The Death Eaters could have done any number of unspeakable things to Sirius by now, some of which were a fate worse than death. But it didn't matter to Remus. If they'd addled his memories or driven him mad or done something to him physically so that he'd never be the same again, Remus would be there.

Lily had just opened her mouth to speak when a knock echoed through the room. Remus wiped his eyes and looked over his shoulder to find James standing awkwardly in the doorway. James took one hesitant step towards them.

"Hey, I just thought I would come up and, you know, see if everything was alright," he explained, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"As alright as it can be," Lily replied.

"I'm sorry, James, for what I said down there."

James waved his apology off. "Don't be, Moony. Padfoot is like a brother to me. I understand exactly what you're feeling."

James had just pulled a trigger without even knowing it. Remus wrestled with the angry words forming on his tongue, fought to bite them back, but he couldn't, once more.

"No, Prongs, you really don't."

"I know we go about handling the situation a bit differently, but I really do know what it feels like."

Remus jumped to his feet. "You've kissed him then? Shagged him? Told him you want to spend your life with him and only him?"

James' eyes widened with each of Remus' questions. He probably shouldn't have outed Sirius to James like that, outed their relationship. But, James would have acted the same way if it had been Lily who was missing—brash, irrational, and plagued with worry.

Several pregnant moments passed, James eyes glued to Remus, his mouth hanging open a bit. Remus wasn't sure how to interpret the silence, but he dared James to say something against his and Sirius' relationship. Finally James managed a simple, "Oh."

It was all apparently too much for James to process; he took several backwards steps towards the door before leaving entirely. Remus wasn't sure how to interpret _that_ either.

And he couldn't believe he was thinking about James' feelings when his sole concern should be Sirius. But he was all the same. Hopefully James would understand, would know that Sirius never meant to keep something like this from him out of spite or worry of James' opinion. Hopefully he wouldn't act out stupidly and _really_ get himself killed. More guilt on Remus' conscience would be impossible to deal with.

"I should check on him, make sure he doesn't do anything foolish," Lily said, offering him a small smile. "Do you think you'll be alright by yourself for a little bit?"

Remus simply nodded. In reality, he could never be _alright_ when Sirius' life hung in the balance. The only action left for him to take was pray that he'd be able to hold on for a little while longer until news came. But she didn't need to know that.

"Go on. I'll be fine."

Apparently convinced, Lily left, and Remus had never felt more un-fine in his life.

.

.

For the next hour, Remus sat alone in the upstairs room, staring out the window into the night. He felt drained. Exhaustion came with his affliction on nights so near his transformation, but he hadn't slept for two days or eaten much to speak of. Crying had only made matters worse, he realized as he fought to keep his eyelids open.

He must have momentarily dozed off because he hadn't heard James come back into the room. It was only after he had touched Remus' arm that Remus, startled, realized he wasn't alone.

"Mind if I sit?" James asked, gesturing to the spot on the window seat that Lily had formerly occupied.

Remus shifted his legs obligingly but didn't bother to say anything. James looked deep in thought and perhaps a little nervous even. When he let out a long sigh, Remus knew his thoughts were confirmed. With a turn of James' head, hazel eyes met brown.

"Sorry if I gave the wrong impression when I walked out earlier," he said softly.

"I hadn't meant to—"

James held his hand up to stop him. "You're excused. I can't really blame you for getting upset with me. I had no idea, Remus."

"Sirius was content with it being our little secret for awhile," Remus offered, directing his eyes to the floor. "He was going to tell you about it though."

"When did you two…?"

"August 15th."

He would remember that night until the day he died. Things had been noticeably different between himself and Sirius then, their roles in one another's life gradually shifting. A shift to what exactly, he hadn't been sure. Sirius had stopped staying out all night, had started turning down offers for romantic liaisons, and had begun to do real—albeit shoddy—housework. If there had been one thing that had clued Remus in to this change, it had definitely been the housework.

The night of the fifteenth had been one that they spent in the living room of the flat that they shared—Sirius listening to the Quidditch match on the wireless and Remus nose deep in some ancient tome that was falling apart. Unexpectedly, Sirius had carded his fingers through Remus' hair, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Apparently scaring the wits out of someone meant "go for it" in the world of Sirius Black, and he'd leaned in, kissing him hesitantly.

When Remus played those moments over in his head, it all seemed rather romantic. Of course, his mind chose to ignore those pesky, less romantic details—the spilling of tea down Remus' shirt, the awkward conversation that followed, Remus locking himself in his room after he'd politely excused himself. No, none of that. It had all been perfect.

"Is he…I mean…were you…" James ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I always thought Pads was into girls."

"He is. This is just an exception to his rule."

James nodded. "Do you love him, Remus? I mean _really_ love him? Because he's my brother, and if you hurt him, I swear…"

James' acceptance shocked Remus. While neither he nor Sirius expected James to cut off their friendship with the news, they had anticipated some awkwardness and some time needed to adjust to the idea.

"I've loved him since fifth year," Remus explained, softly. "I know it sounds mad, but I knew that he was 'the one' even then. Of course, I never thought I'd have a chance with him, but you of all people should know that that doesn't change your feelings about a person."

James nodded again. "You're a lucky bloke to have him, Moony."

Remus shook his head slowly. He _didn't_ have him; he might never have him ever again. All of the things shared between them—the kissing, those few shags, the shared bed—could easily become ancient history with just a few, dreaded words.

"I don't know much about your Muggle god, but Lily tells me he can work miracles. I don't really believe in it myself, but if we find Sirius, I might just be made a believer. What you did tonight, what you risked by going to church, it could give Sirius the miracle he needs."

The anguish that had somehow dissipated in those brief minutes of sleep crept up on him again, and Remus found himself grimacing as if those feelings were causing him physical pain.

"I'm not sure what I'd do if he d—"

"Don't. Don't say that word. Don't even think it," James interjected, his voice heavy with worry. "He won't. Pads is a fighter, and he'd never leave us. Meadows and Dearborn have already gone out to start the search, and they're going to find him."

"I didn't know anyone was going out."

"Dumbledore gave the order while you were up here with Lily."

Suddenly Remus was torn. He knew that the best thing for them to do was wait it out, but he hated the idea of being stuck at headquarters.

"Maybe I should—"

James stood. "No. _You_ are going to Apparate home and get something to eat, then go to bed. Lily's told me you haven't had much of either since Tuesday. The last thing Sirius needs is you collapsing from hunger or sleep deprivation."

"Prongs—"

"Home. Now."

Remus opened his mouth to protest.

"As soon as I know something, I'll come over straight away." He placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. "I promise."

* * *

Remus knew the trip home would be a difficult one. Not the getting there—he was sure that he could still Apparate, despite the circumstances—but the dealing with _being_ there for the first time since Sirius' disappearance, being in the space where he and Sirius shared a life. And as he stripped off his jacket, folding it neatly over the sofa, and looked about the living room, the echoes of Sirius pierced his heart.

On the coffee table sat two empty bottles of beer and another half full. The night before he'd left, Sirius had been drinking, but stopped halfway through his third bottle when Remus, fresh from a shower, popped in to let him know he was going to bed. Even though he hadn't intended it as an invitation, Sirius had taken it as one, and they'd spent the better part of the night in Remus' bed making love.

Remus knew Sirius wouldn't approve of him thinking of it as "making love", proclaiming that words like those made him sound like an absolute girl. But it wasn't "shagging", not to him. The way Sirius made him feel, the way he stared into his eyes, the way all those caresses were done in such affection—it couldn't be _just shagging_.

Lying on the seat of the sofa was another piece of Sirius—the black tee shirt that he'd worn that same night, the one that had been carelessly discarded in the scramble to undress and get to bed. It would still have his scent all over it—a combination of tobacco, his ridiculously pricey cologne, and something that was just Sirius himself.

Without even thinking, Remus shed his jumper and put the tee on, longing to be enveloped by Sirius in some small way. He brought the neck of the shirt over his nose, inhaling and finding the thought of never smelling this cluster of scents—the very ones he'd smelled from the brewed Amortentia in 6th year Potions—made him swallow the lump rising in his throat.

Remus looked around the room, saw what a mess it was, but hadn't the heart to clean it up. He would wait until Sirius came home—and damn it, he _was_ coming home. And when he did, everything would be as Sirius had left it.

His stomach growled and ached with emptiness. He hadn't realized it until now, as he stood alone for the first time in two days. Despite knowing that he probably _should_ eat, Remus didn't think he could stomach food at this point. He would sleep instead.

Making his way down the short corridor to their bedrooms, Remus paused before Sirius' door. While they had begun in separate bedrooms, Sirius had effectively moved himself into Remus' room as their relationship progressed. Remus had often joked that Sirius' room was so dirty that it'd become inhabitable and he had no other choice but to share with him. But as Remus opened the door, he was thankful for the mess.

Remus stepped over clothes, making his way to Sirius' unmade bed. Not even bothering to undress, he slipped between the sheets, resting his head on the pillow perfumed by Sirius' shampoo. Remus hadn't even noticed how tired he'd been until he let his eyes close and embraced the comfort of the bed. While Sirius' absence was painfully obvious, Remus pretended to be in Sirius' company as he fell asleep.

.

.

"Damn it, Remus! Wake up!"

James. Remus became alert in an instant; his eyes snapped open and he searched to find James in the darkened room. What he could make out of James' expression told him little about what was to come. All Remus could be sure of was that the Order had found out something about Sirius. Remus steeled himself, preparing for those terrible words to escape James' lips.

"James?" he asked hesitantly, nearly begging to be put out of his misery. "James, _please_."

"We've got him, Moony. He's in bad shape, but he's alive."

Remus found himself suddenly in James' rough embrace, James' arms so tight around him that Remus couldn't breathe. But the pain of oxygen deprivation wasn't even a thought in Remus' mind. Instead, two words played over as if they were on some broken record: He's alive. _He's alive_. Remus felt the tears trickle down his cheeks before he ever realized he was crying.

* * *

In the days that followed, Remus had learned one thing: St. Mungo's coffee tasted like shit. He didn't mind it though, not when being there meant Sirius was alive and well cared for. Remus hadn't left his side longer than to go home for a quick shower, a trip to church to give his thanks, and to spend the full moon locked away in the Shack.

Everyone had told him that there was no reason for him to be there so often, that Sirius had been put in a coma by the Healers—a desperate measure which spoke to the severity of the head trauma –and likely wouldn't be coming out of it for a while. Remus didn't care though; he wanted to be there when Sirius woke up.

.

.

Remus watched as the mediwitch took Sirius' pulse, his eyes darting back and forth between her face and Sirius' arm. Was that a frown pulling at her lips? Was something wrong with Sirius? He _did_ look a shade or two paler today, come to think of it.

"Something wrong?" Remus asked, his voice concerned.

"No, Mr. Lupin. Everything is normal."

"You're sure? Because I think he's looking a little unwell."

"All of his vitals are strong."

Remus still wasn't convinced. "Maybe we can call in the Healer? Have him take a look because I'm certain—"

"Easy, Moony," James said as he entered the room, having just come back from the loo. "If the lady says he's alright, he's alright."

The mediwitch gave James a nod of thanks and left the room.

"You really have to stop interrogating the staff every time they come in to take his bloody temperature."

"I'm not…I don't…" Remus frowned.

James looked at him pointedly. "If you had access to Veritaserum, I'm not entirely certain you wouldn't use it on them, mate. And I understand why, I really do. Just relax, alright?"

"I want to make sure he's getting proper care is all. As much as everyone likes to think he's going to be just fine, he's not out of the woods yet."

Remus took Sirius' limp hand in his, staring at him and rubbing his thumb against the top of Sirius' hand. Sirius was a mess. His face was a giant, purple bruise topped off with two giant lumps, one on the right of his forehead and the other on the back of his head. The Healer said he had four broken ribs and a fractured wrist. And the blood loss…Remus didn't want to think about it. There were so many gashes in Sirius' skin now, some deeper than others, some likely to permanently mar his once perfect skin. Remus' current post-moon wounds looked like light scratches in comparison.

"When's the last time you ate?"

Remus didn't bother to look James' way. "Last night…or yesterday afternoon…I don't know. Yesterday sometime."

James sighed. "I'm not going to even bother to lecture you on your poor eating habits, Moony. As a token of gratitude for sparing you that, I expect you to eat the take away I bring you after my lunch with Lily, alright?"

"Alright," he said, nodding.

After James left, Remus relocated himself from the chair to the edge of Sirius' bed. He pushed a few errant strands of Sirius' dark hair out of his face, his fingers falling very softly against the bruised flesh. Remus had fought the urge to take Sirius into his arms since the first time he saw him lying in this bed. It would cause Sirius discomfort, so he tried to restrain himself, sticking with barely there touches and hand holding.

"I love you, Sirius."

Remus felt Sirius' hand twitch in his. These small movements had been happening for a day now, signs that Sirius was pulling out of the coma. The Healer and mediwitches had all assured him that it wouldn't be long now before he woke up, and Remus could hardly wait for that moment.

Though with that moment would come the answer to the question that concerned everyone: just how badly had his head been damaged? There had been bleeding on his brain and definite trauma, which were bad enough. But if he'd been tortured under the Cruciatus Curse, there could be other, unseen damage there.

"I'm not leaving your side. No matter what comes of this." Remus smiled softly. "You're stuck with me."

Those words elicited a small movement of Sirius' brow, and Remus couldn't help but squeeze his hand encouragingly. What he wouldn't give to look into those grey eyes again.

.

.

After James and Lily returned from lunch in mid-afternoon, Lily had forced Remus to go home long enough for a shower, a change of clothes, and to eat his takeaway. It had taken all the persuasion in Lily's power to move him from the bedside, but he had finally agreed to it—Sirius would be alright with them and he wouldn't be gone _that_ long.

Shortly before six, Remus stepped back into the room, an overnight bag in hand. He'd decided when he'd finally arrived home that he had no intention of leaving Sirius again until he pulled out of the coma, and if that meant sleeping in a chair for the next week, so be it.

"How is he?"

"Really well. The Healer came in and said that he could come out of it as soon as this evening," James explained.

Remus felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over him. "That's fantastic."

"Would you mind keeping an eye on him a bit?" James asked. "Lily is exhausted, and I really should get her home."

Lily stood. "I wish I could stay, Remus, but I haven't been getting much sleep since Sirius went missing."

"Yeah, that's understandable," Remus replied, approaching her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Get some rest."

"Fire call me if he wakes up," James said, putting on his jacket. "I should be back around eight."

.

.

Remus was in the middle of a crossword—and desperately wishing for Sirius' help at the moment—when he heard Sirius groan. His eyes snapped up, watching as Sirius moved his head, disoriented. Remus' heart jumped to his throat, and he immediately shifted from the chair to Sirius' bed.

"Pads?"

His swollen eyes opened slowly, the puffed up skin only allowing him a half-lidded look of his surroundings. Remus felt Sirius' shaking fingers and quickly took them in his hand, threading their fingers together. Sirius' eyes closed and opened once more before grey eyes found brown.

"Do I look as pretty as I feel?" Sirius asked in a hoarse whisper, his voice barely recognizable.

Remus couldn't stop his smile, or the wetness in his eyes. "Prettier."

"I—"

"Shh, save your strength."

"My head," he said, ignoring Remus' order entirely. He tried to bring his other hand—the fractured one—to his forehead, but found himself wincing in pain at the attempt.

"Your head is a wreck. I think it'll be a while before you're on the pull again."

Sirius squeezed his hand weakly. "No pulling. Got you."

"You're lucky to be alive, Sirius. If it weren't for the grace of God—"

"Sound like your mum."

Remus realized that Sirius wasn't about stop talking as long as he was there. And as much as Remus didn't want to leave his side for a moment, he really should contact James like he promised. It wouldn't take but a minute or two, but Sirius would probably fall asleep in that time given his sorry state. Remus wanted to continue to speak with him or at the very least look into his eyes, but he understood that Sirius' rest was considerably more important than his own selfish desires.

"I need to call Prongs. Let him know what's going on. And I should probably notify the mediwitch as well," he said softly.

Sirius shook his head. "Don't leave."

"Just for a moment."

"Thought I'd never see you again," he confessed, his eyes wet with tears. "Thought they would kill me and I'd never get to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, Remus."

His stomach dropped. His heart contracted violently. Remus never expected to hear those words from Sirius, not even in those bliss-filled moments. It was a thought once too good to be true, but somehow, someway, Sirius had found his way to him. He returned the sentiments Remus had harbored for years, and that knowledge brought him to tears.

"Girl," Sirius admonished, watching him cry.

"Shut it, you." Remus wiped away his tears. "I love you too, Sirius."

Sirius closed his eyes. "Hard not to. I'm charming."

Remus, thinking that Sirius was about to fall asleep, stood to leave, but Sirius' surprisingly strong grip held him in place.

"Sirius—"

"Kiss me."

"What?" Remus asked, half amused and half concerned.

"That's all I thought about," he began, his voice quickly failing him from overuse, "when they were torturing me... Wanted to live to kiss you again."

Remus leaned over him, hesitant about the kiss at first because Sirius' lips were both split open and swollen. Any contact would likely hurt him. But, Remus reasoned, after hearing Sirius' confession though, he'd be a complete arse to deny him. He very gingerly brought his lips against Sirius', brushing against them. It was Sirius who deepened the kiss, pushing back on Remus and encouraging more contact. Remus did, careful not to nip and mindful of the battered bits of flesh.

Before that moment, Remus had never understood how a kiss from Sirius could make him feel so alive. Each time their lips met was like the first time. Pain, sorrow, and the world itself slowly faded, leaving nothing in existence but the two of them, and eternity.

* * *

_And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me  
Shine until tomorrow, let it be_


End file.
